War of the World (Hetalia)
by Tachyon-Mini
Summary: Warnings: Lots of OC's. Fluffy yaoi. Character death. After three unexpected countries declare war on the world, everyone's life is on the line. With only three strongholds left, they need the magic nations to protect their land- and when the Alliance figures that out, they go after them. Who will be left at the end of the war?
1. Chapter 1

Freja¹ sprinted down the alleyway as fast as her legs could carry her, trying to run and pay attention to the telepathic communication she was having with her brother.

'Freja, you've got to get back here,' Lukas² thought to her frantically, even in his usual emotionless voice. 'It's not safe for you out there, either.'

'I understand,' she thought back. 'Where are you guys?'

'We're at Emil's³ house.' She inwardly groaned as she turned a sharp corner, jumping over a fallen pile of bricks. Emil's place was still another mile away!

'I'm on my way.' Freja ended the communication, risking a glance behind her. The person chasing her was nowhere to be seen.

"I hope that means that the distraction worked!" She sighed, though, as a bullet whizzed past her ear. Her assailant ran after her, and she knew that he would catch up soon if she didn't do something.

She shot a fireball aimlessly behind her, further draining her already low magic reserves. A string of curse words could be heard, and as she barely slowed to turn a corner, she was tackled to the ground from behind.

As Freja turned over so she could look at her attacker directly, he pinned her arms above her head and smirked.

"Hello, my dear."

Freja growled, mentally smirking after noting that part of his arm was burned.

The tall boy sitting on her stomach clicked his tongue. "You must be exhausted," he cooed. "Oh well."

She turned her face away as he kept talking.

"I'm technically supposed to kill you, because they've had about enough of you; I don't think I will, though." He smiled, remniscently of an insane person. "You're much more fun alive and squirming!"

She closed her eyes and thought of a way to get away. Strength was a no go; for someone so young, he was incredibly strong. He wasn't gullible, either. Her eyes shot open as she remembered a spell that Lukas had been teaching her before this whole thing started. She had been warned not to use it without experience, but this was an emergency!

She faced the boy and glared at him, pretending to be listening to whatever he was saying, while actually chanting a spell in her head.

'I hope this works...' She thought, just as his hand came down onto her cheek. The sting was almost enough to make her lose focus, but she kept it until the spell was completed. The magic flowing through her gave her a high, blue eyes glowing with electricity.

"I hope you go die in a hole," Freja spat, feeling herself disappear. "Because you're no brother of mine, Stefan⁴! To Emil's house!"

She felt the last of her magic leave her, and was sent tumbling head over heels into darkness.

1- Freja Sørensen, or Faroe Islands

2- Lukas Bondevik, or Norway

3- Emil Steilsson, or Iceland

4- Stefan Väinämöinen, or Åland Islands


	2. Chapter 2

Oliver¹ knelt next to a body on the ground, inspecting the wounds.

"A single gunshot wound to the head," he muttered, scrawling notes into his book. "Range: One to two miles. Probable suspect, sniper."

He bit his lip as he put the book away, pulling out his communicator. Lovino² would not be happy.

"Oliver to Lovino."

"What do you got?" The reply was almost instantaneous.

"Bad news," he sighed, packing his belongings back into his bag. "One of your men is dead."

Lovino cursed on the other end. "Cause?"

"Sniper.

Another curse. "Those- fine." He sounded furious. "I'll get Ivan³ to deal with it. Thanks for the report.

The line went dead, and Oliver sighed, shoving the small device into his bag, as well. He picked everything up and started walking towards his next destination, trying not to think of all the things that could happen to him on the way. He could be attacked, by humans or other countries. Shot by the same sniper that killed the other guy.

He shuddered. If only they hadn't decided to disturb the peace.

After World War Two, the world was suddenly thrust into the longest peace it had ever held- nearly a century, gone without fighting. But that all changed the day before 100 years would have been up.

It would have been understandable if it was Ivan who had declared war on the world. He had a long history of not exactly getting along with everyone. But those three? No one saw it coming. And it was with that surprise that they brought the world very nearly to its knees.

Sometimes, Oliver wished that he could use magic, but he then stopped and remembered what was happening to those that could. Since the three that attacked had been moving, conquering everything with ease, magic nations had been called upon to protect the rebellion the way that only they could: with magic. They were few in number; there were four of them, to be exact. One to protect each major rebel power- America, Russia, and Southern Italy- and one extra, for whoever needed her.

Now, they were going after the magic nations. If there were no barriers, then it would be easy for the Alliance to roll in and destroy everything.

Oliver sighed as he found himself walking up to Francis'⁴ house. His siblings were supposed to be in hiding here, but the probability of that happening was slim. Very.

'Might as well check...'

He knocked on the door, relieved when Francis opened the door. He was holding a hand to his head as if it hurt.

"Hi, Francis. Did my siblings come here, by any chance?"

The blonde nodded painfully.

"Great! Can I see them?"

He shook his head yes.

"All right, where are they?"

"You're not going to like this, Oliver," Francis warned quietly, looking burdened and upset. "I'm so sorry."

1- Oliver Kirkland, or Shetland Islands

2- Lovino Vargas, or South Italy/ Romano

3- Ivan Braginsky, or Russia

4- Francis Bonnefoy, or France


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur¹ not-so-silently cursed himself for getting caught. He should have seen that something bad was going to happen before anything bad happened!

But he didn't, and so now he was sitting in a magic-proof little cell somewhere. His siblings were probably dead. So was Francis.

He cradled his bloody arm to his chest, hissing out a string of curses every time he moved it. It was probably broken- but it wasn't like that was the only thing he'd ever broken.

He heard footsteps coming down the stairs. It was a guard, escorting someone. The door to his cell opened, and the visitor stepped in; Arthur's heart immediately fell into his stomach upon seeing who it was.

"Arthur, hello," the visitor smiled sickeningly. "I suppose that I should apologize for the way that my guards treated you- your arm doesn't look so good. We'll get you fixed up, don't worry."

Arthur rolled his eyes and remained silent.

"You've probably noticed that you can't use magic in here, right?" He continued, tilting his head.

"Yes. But it's being blocked using magic. I can tell. So who else do you have here?"

The other seemed to ponder this a moment, before smiling again. "Well, it's not like you can do anything about it. Your friend, Vladimir². He's upstairs as we speak, keeping up a magic-proof barrier around this room."

Arthur growled. "He would never!"

"But he is."

He couldn't deny that it was true. He could sense that Vlad's magical imprint was on fell silent for a moment, until he spoke up.

"... How'd you get him to do it?"

Another smile. "Oh, it's easy to bend people to your will when you have something that they would do anything to protect."

Arthur thought about this. What would Vlad need to protect? One of two people. And since one of them had dissolved years ago...

"You monster," he snarled. "Andrei³ is just a boy! Leave him out of this!"

The visitor chuckled. "Sadly, Arthur, no one can be kept out of this."

He turned to leave.

"Wait! You don't need me- just kill me and let Andrei go."

"Ah, Arthur. Ever sacrificial. But no, we need you and the other magicians for something big we have planned later. You'll love it, trust me!"

As the gate opened and the visitor left, Arthur growled again. Before the other could leave, he said:

"You three make me sick, Feliciano⁴."

The gate closed with a loud bang and a chuckle.

"Yes, I know."

Then he left.

1- Arthur Kirkland, or England

2- Vladimir Popescu, or Romania

3- Andrei Popescu, or Moldova

4- Feliciano Vargas, or North Italy/ Veneziano


	4. Chapter 4

"- just wanna-"

"Get off before I have to hurt you."

"No! She's my little sister, and she's cold!"

"She's not cold, idiot. Just tired, and if you wake her up, you'll never be able to sleep again."

'Ah, the joys of waking up at home,' Freja thought, pretending to be asleep. She felt a pair of arms around her shoulders.

"But Norge-"

'Definitely Mathias¹.'

"I don't like that name. Now, get off of her."

'There's Lukas.'

Mathias pouted. "You're a meanie, Norge! Just look at my poor little sister! She's so cold, and you won't give her a blanket! So I'm forced to give her hugs to keep her warm," he said matter-of-factly.

"Idiot. She's not cold, just out of magical energy."

"But she's so pale," Mathias said softly.

"Being pale is a common side effect. She's fine," Lukas sighed, exasperated.

The arms around her shoulders tightened. "No!"

"Get the he-"

"Enough!" Yelled a third voice. 'And Emil.' "Both of you, get out."

Norway looked at him like he was crazy, and Mathias remained leeched to his sister.

"I mean it. This is my house," he said, tapping his foot, "and I don't want either of you in here."

"But she's my little sister, and she needs to be kept warm!"

Emil sighed. "And she's my big sister. I'll keep her warm. So, get out."

Mathias stood up and held out his pinky. "Swear it."

He would have laughed at the man, but he looked just a bit too serious to be joking. They locked pinkies, and soon after, Lukas and Mathias reluctantly left the room.

"Even in a war where they're on the same side, they fight!"

Another sigh came from Emil, and he sat down next to Freja. Remembering his promise, he felt his face get warm, but pulled her up by the arm and let her head rest on his shoulder, wrapping one arm around her.

"Stupid Mathias," he muttered. "If she wakes up like this, I'll get punched or something."

"No you won't," came her sleepy reply.

He nodded. "So, you are awake."

"Yeah. What happened?"

"I don't know. You just sort of poofed into my living room a couple of hours ago while Iggiti² was talking about Canada. Lukas took care of you."

"Okay," Freja smiled, talking quietly. She didn't want to let the other two know that she was awake just yet.

A comfortable silence blanketed the room, broken by a laugh.

"So, was I hearing things," Freja smirked, "or did I hear you call me 'Big sister'?"

Emil's face turned pink. "You're crazy. We're the same age."

"I'm older, Ice! I was found first!"

"Just forty years earlier-"

"Exactly! I'm forty years older than you."

"You're crazy," he said, barely smiling.

Freja jumped up and ran out of the room, yelling, "I got Ice to smile!"

"Oh my Odin," came Mathias' shocked reply, followed by laughter on both ends. He was probably squeezing the life out of poor Freja.

When Emil finally bothered to follow them, Mathias had just put her down, and Lukas was lecturing her.

"I thought I told you to not use the teleportation spell without more practice," he said sternly.

"It was an emergency," she countered. "Stefan found me, and I had no other option!"

"You're incredibly lucky," Lukas sighed, running a hand along his face. "Who knows where you could have ended up?"

Mathias picked the smaller girl up and moved her behind him. "Come on, Norge, she just woke up! Lay off."

Lukas grabbed his tie. "If she had ended up somewhere else, she could be dead!"

"But she didn't!"

Emil sighed, watching his two more extravagant siblings 'hold a conversation'. Iggiti came into the room, drying his hands.

"It's like the other five never left," he mused, and Emil nodded.

Freja took the liberty of joining the calmer crowd. "I think Mathias is just trying to keep everyone's spirits up. He did just lose part of his family."

"That's reasonable," the other two nodded in unison.

Freja's face was suddenly devoid of any emotion, staring into the turmoil on the other side of the room. Emil looked up at her.

'Sometimes she's as easy to read as a book, and other times I never know what she's thinking. I don't get it.'

He sighed, walking into the kitchen. Opening the pantry, he grabbed one of the few things in there: a can of pineapples.

"I don't remember buying this," he muttered, but shrugged soon after. It wasn't fish, but with all the crazy going on, he'd take what he could get.

1- Mathias Køhler, or Denmark

2- Iggiti Køhler, or Greenland


	5. Chapter 5

Stefan kicked a rock down a dirt path, hanging his head. She got away again. He'd be the laughingstock of the Alliance again. The guy that can't even mange to capture a little teenage girl. He heard a snicker from an alley next to him, and he immediately knew who it was.

"I presume she got away again."

"It's none of your business, Jeppe¹," he snarled.

"Isn't it, though?" The boy stepped out of the shadows. Stefan noted for the thousandth time that the smaller boy was practically the spitting image of Lukas in his younger years.

"No, not really."

Jeppe shrugged. "Think what you want. All I'm saying is that Tino² will not be happy."

"Don't you think I know that? I'm not stupid."

"That's debateable."

"Are you antagonizing me?"

"I thought you said you weren't stupid."

Jeppe dodged the rock that Stefan threw at him with practiced ease, chuckling at the weak and useless attempt.

"I wonder how he'll punish you this time," Jeppe mused. "Maybe he'll let me watch."

As Jeppe disappeared into the shadows yet again, Stefan found himself thinking. He, too, wondered how Tino would punish him. Last time, he had nearly drowned him. Before that, he'd been forced to clean the whole house- and with six floors and everyone dumping dirt everywhere to make it harder, it was not an easy task. Before that, it had been a black eye.

He shuddered, deciding that going home was probably not a good idea. He turned on his heel to go the other way, only to find that he was standing at the bad end of a gun.

"Don't move."

Stefan scoffed, mockingly putting his hands in the air. "All right, you found me. Now what?"

He looked around the barrel of the gun, hoping to see who could sneak up on him with such expert ability, but was a little disappointed to find that his assailant was wearing a motorcycle helmet.

"Stefan Väinämöinen, you're under arrest for various war crimes, including kidnapping, attempted kidnapping, and murder of humans and nations alike," the officer spoke. "Come with me."

He shrugged. "Sure, whatever."

"If you try to resist- wait, what?"

"I said, 'sure, whatever'. I need a place to crash for tonight, anyway."

The officer, thought Stefan, looked confused, even if it wasn't possible to see his face. When he recovered, Stefan's arms were handcuffed behind his back, and they began walking the way that he had been about to go.

"So," Stefan said after a period of silence. "Do I get the honor of seeing the face of the man that dare arrest 'war criminal number four'?"

The officer simply shook his head. "No."

"You sound German," Stefan remarked as he was taken at gunpoint to what appeared to be an old, abandoned Italian restaurant. "Are you German?"

"No."

"Are you human?"

"None of your business, kid," the officer snapped.

"Ooh, you called me kid! That means you think that you're older than me! Who could you be?" He mused. "Denmark? No, if you were Mathias, you'd be in some hole, protecting your wussy brothers and witch sister."

The officer looked like he was about to hit him. "You shouldn't talk bad about people."

"Why? They're not here."

They stepped onto a wooden elevator of some kind, and the masked man untied a rope, using it to lower them down.

"You're pretty strong, huh?"

"Look, kid. You should be very glad I'm just an officer. If I were anyone else, you'd be dead by now."

Stefan nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I understand. So I guess I'm going to be interrogated now?"

"Probably."

He shrugged. "I'll be out of here by morning, anyway. I'm not worried. So who do you work for?"

The officer growled, but didn't answer.

"Hey. You heard me. I asked a question- who do you work for?"

He remained silent.

"If you're going to ignore me, you could at least sing something to pass the time," Stefan suggested. "Or give me vital information on how to escape. Or-"

Sick of hearing him, the officer slammed the butt of his gun down on Stefan's head, knocking him out.

"What an annoying kid!"

When they got to the bottom, the officer re-tied the knot, picked Stefan up, and carried him over his shoulder into the base. He walked over to the cells and opened one, ceremoniously dropping the captive on the ground. He then left, locking the door.

Walking down the hall to go report to his boss, he became slightly happier. Just the thought was enough to make him smile under the helmet. He knocked on the door, and a loud "Come in" came from inside.

"Boss, I've got good news-" he said, interrupted as his boss suddenly and incredibly quickly closed and locked the door behind him. How did he get there?

"It better be fu %!#& fantastic news, Gilbert³. I'm not in the mood to listen to anyone's sh!#, even yours."

Lovino watched as Gilbert took off his helmet, revealing silver hair, red eyes, and a cocky smirk. His face had many scratches and cuts on it, but Lovino thought that it made him look even better- like someone that could take care of himself.

"Fu %!#& fantastic news, indeed," Gilbert said, setting his helmet down. "I captured Stefan. He's in cell number four."

Lovino grabbed Gilbert's face with both of his hands, moving it around as if he were looking for something.

"You don't seem to be hurt- are you okay? He usually goes for the head."

"I'm fine," he said, letting himself be manhandled. "He didn't even fight back. He seemed eager to not go back to his base. Like something would have happened if he did."

Lovino let him go, stepping back. "He probably failed at getting his sister again. I've heard that Tino doesn't take failure lightly."

"Neither do you."

He clicked his tongue. "Yeah, but I'd never kill anyone over it."

"Of course not."

"That makes me better than them."

"You always have been."

Lovino cursed. "No, I haven't. Those three used to be angels. Fu %!#& angels."

Gilbert thought about what to say. This was one of those times where Lovino would either get angry at you for saying something stupid, or have to use you for emotional support. He preferred the latter- it was a lot cuter.

"Well," he decided. "It shouldn't be a person's past that defines them. They turned evil; you stayed good, and that means a lot. Especially to me."

Lovino looked at him, unsure. His shoulders slumped as wrapped his arms around Gilbert's waist, hiding his head in his neck. Gilbert patted the slightly shorter man's head.

"I don't know what to do," he whispered. "My brother betrayed me, and Antonio⁴ is dead. The fate of the world is resting on four people, and two of them are gone!"

He released the other man, punching the bookshelf near them.

"Da%# it!" He cried, clutching his hand. "That fu %!#& hurt!"

Gilbert pulled Lovino away from the shelf and pushed him gently into the door. He gave him a quick kiss.

"Hey," he smiled at him. "It'll be okay- you're a great leader and a great guy. We'll get through this."

Lovino averted his eyes, face visibly on fire in the dim room.

"I hope you're right."

He straightened and walked over to his desk, sitting down and propping his feet up.

"Get out of my office, officer," he said, not making eye contact.

"Sure thing, boss!" Gilbert picked up his helmet and opened the door, stopping only to wink and say, "See you tonight."

1- Jeppe Bondevik, or Svalbard

2- Tino Väinämöinen, or Finland

3- Gilbert Beilschmidt, or Prussia

4- Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, or Spain


	6. Chapter 6

Oliver had to sit down when he entered Francis' house. To say that his siblings "weren't doing so well" would be the understatement of the century.

William* was the first one he saw when he walked in. A knife was still sticking out of his broad back, blood staining his clothes. Just a few feet further in were the twins, Eire** and Liam***. They had been holding hands, and each of them had suffered a gunshot wound. Just one each.

Looking around, Oliver didn't see Alistair****.

"Francis," Oliver choked, pressing two fingers under Eire's chin, hoping that maybe she was alive. She wasn't. "Where's Scotty?"

Francis pointed towards the kitchen. A faint groan could be heard, and they both rushed over. Alistair was sitting upright, back to the cabinet. He was holding a hand to his stomach, trying in vain to stop the blood pouring from his torso. It looked he had been shot twice more, once in the shoulder and once in the leg.

"Scotty!"

Oliver ran over to him and took off his backpack, rummaging through it for something, anything to staunch it, just until he could do something better. He noted in horror that the blood was almost the same color as his brother's hair.

"Ollie," Alistair managed to groan out, turning his head painfully to look at him. "Ollie, it's too late for me."

"Don't talk like that! I can help!"

Alistair moved his hand and set it on Oliver's backpack, trying to close it.

"I cannae be helped, and I won't spend my last moments as a country watching my little brother try to do the impossible! Got it?"

Oliver stared down at his now bloody backpack, not moving, and trying to hold back the tears that were sliding down his cheeks anyway. Scotty had always been so strong- it hurt to see him like this.

"Ollie."

"I- I understand," he replied, using his sleeve to wipe the blurriness away.

"Good. Now," he coughed violently, blood leaking from his mouth, "I want you to do some things for me."

Oliver sniffed. "Anything."

"I want you to get Iggy back."

"I was going to do that, anyway."

"And I want you to forgive ol' Francis here. It wasn't his fault."

"O- Okay," his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "Yeah."

Scotty thought for a moment, rubbing a palm down his cheek and smearing blood.

"Ah! And I want you to tell that pretty friend of ours that I'll see her when it comes her time. Tell her that I'll be waiting, and that she better not come before her time is up just because she's dying to see me." Alistair winked briefly.

Oliver deadpanned.

"Flirting with Freja until the very end," he muttered.

Alistair laughed, but it came out more like a raspy cough.

"Got it, Ollie?"

Oliver nodded. "I will. Promise."

Scotty suddenly squinted his eyes, like he was looking at something bright.

"See ya, Ollie."

And then there was nothing.

Oliver found that he wasn't crying anymore. He looked down at Scotty, then reached into his backpack and pulled out a filled syringe with an attached needle.

He shoved Francis against the wall and pointed the needle at his throat.

"You are going to explain to me, very carefully, exactly what happened here, or I'll inject you with this deadly poison."

Francis gulped.

"M-Mathieu*."

Oliver narrowed his eyes.

"What about him? How did you survive when the rest of them didn't?"

"Mathieu came over... he knocked on my door and told me that he had changed. Decided that he didn't want to be evil anymore. He asked me to forgive him for all he had done."

"And you believed him?"

"Oui. Mathieu is my son. If you had someone close to you ask you to forgive them, would you turn them away just because they had done something bad?"

Oliver sighed and reluctantly responded. "No."

"Exactly. So he came in, and we talked. It was fun while it lasted. But there was a knock at the door- your siblings- and he knocked me out from behind. When I came to, I was in a closet, and everyone else... you know the rest."

A moment of silence passed.

Stepping back, Oliver ejected the contents of the needle onto the floor. He grabbed his backpack, closed it, slung it over his shoulder, and walked out of the small house.

"Oliver, wait!"

He turned around to look at Francis.

"I'm sorry."

"... I know."

1- William Kirkland, or Wales

2- Eire Kirkland, or Ireland

3- Liam Kirkland, or North Ireland

4- Alistair Kirkland, or Scotland

*- Mathieu/Matthew Williams, or Canada


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm home!"

Mathias slammed the door behind him with his foot, cringing and waiting for the arm that would surely reach out to grab his tie, and the calm, angry voice that would accompany it, scolding him for slamming the door again.

It never came.

He opened one eye, peeking into the dark house.

"Hello?" He called, setting the basket he held down. He had only been gone for an hour- did everyone leave?

He began walking around the house, looking for any sign of life. He saw a note from Iggiti explaining that he and Emil had gone to find something, and would be back tomorrow. That was normal, but he couldn't find Lukas or Freja anywhere. They weren't supposed to even leave the house, with the Alliance after them.

He searched all the rooms thoroughly, even lifting up one side of the couch to make sure that they hadn't shrunk themselves again. That had been one heck of a game of hide-and-seek.

It was only when he stopped in the kitchen to think that he heard it: a thud, followed by a high pitched scream that he had heard so many times during the viking age.

"Freja!"

He ran out the back door, just in time to see Lukas, arms bound behind his back, be literally thrown into an old-style, black SUV. Freja had one guard holding each of her arms, and she was using her legs to keep herself out of the car.

"Hey!"

Mathias started running towards his siblings' attackers. They struggled to get Freja in the car for just another moment, then decided it would be better to get away with one, rather than neither of them.

They threw her at Mathias, causing the both of them to fall. In the confusion, they slammed the door and jumped in, tires squealing as they speeded off.

Mathias gasped and ran after it, but Freja knew that it was no use. She even tried to slow it down using her magic, but it was no use- she was too tired. She sat on the ground, breathing hard, blonde hair falling into her eyes.

She heard a loud shot, and, looking up, she saw Mathias' leg crumple under him. His curses were audible from where she sat.

She ran over to him. "Mathias! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he muttered through gritted teeth, holding his leg.

Freja felt herself gag as a trail of red pushed itself through his fingers and down his pant leg.

"Ohh, I don't feel good," she held her mouth. "O-okay, stay calm. Um, I'm going to call for help."

Mathias stood up, groaning, and wiped his hand off on his shirt. "It's no big deal, I can clean it myself."

"No, you can't!" She had no choice but to follow the stubborn man as he traveled slowly back to the house. "You're going to bleed to death! Just sit down, and- Mathias!"

"Look, it's not my fault that you can't help this time," he suddenly snapped. "You're the one that can't stand the blood. I can, and I'm a grown a$$ man. You're just too weak, and I don't fu %!#& need you here."

Freja felt a stinging liquid pool in her eyes. Oh, if that was how he wanted to play his cards...

"You have no idea what that was like for me!" She stopped in front of him. "You have no idea! Forced to wait at home everyday, taking care of the younger boys, not knowing if any of you were ever going to come home from your bloodthirsty killing spree! And then I had to go out into the snow to search for your bodies when you didn't return! Think whatever you want, go ahead and think that you don't need me! But I assure you, you would not have made it this far had I not always been there to pick up the pieces."

She ran off into the house, probably crying. Mathias growled and continued limping to the back door. He wouldn't be surprised if she had locked him out, just to spite him.

'Women!' He sighed, exasperated, but then regained himself. 'That was a bit harsh... What happened to me? I guess I was just in a lot of pain. I'll go apologize when I get this cleaned up.'

He pushed the back door open. At least she didn't lock him out. He limped painfully over to the bathroom, taking out a first aid kit. He rested his leg on the toilet seat, then went to work extracting the bullet and cleaning it. When he was done, he left for the couch, not even bothering to clean up Emil's bathroom. He popped open a container of painkillers and ate one, resting on the couch.

"Oh, God..." he muttered, covering his face with his hands. "I'm so useless. I don't deserve to be the King of Northern Europe. Nor, I'm so sorry I couldn't help you..."

He sat in silence for another moment, relishing in the numbness in his leg, then began talking to Lukas again, who, of course, couldn't hear him.

"How am I supposed to come save you? It hurts to walk, and I can't use magic... I couldn't save you. Or stop Tino, or even Sve! Stupid Berwald¹."

He glanced at the hallway.

"Freja?"

He stood up and walked over to the door that hid the room that Freja was staying in. He knocked on the door.

"Frej? I'm sorry for yelling at you."

No response. Maybe she was asleep? He jiggled the doorknob, expecting it to be open. He immediately knew that something was wrong. She never locked anything. He pounded on the door.

"Frej?" He elbowed the door in frustration, figuring out that it wouldn't open. "Stupid Emil and his stupid unbreakable doors!"

He thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. Emil always kept spare keys to all the rooms in his house in the kitchen. He ran, albeit awkwardly, to the kitchen and threw open the key drawer, grabbing the one labeled "F. Sørensen". He rushed back to her room and unlocked the door, praying that she was just sleeping.

She wasn't there.

1- Berwald Oxensternia, or Sweden


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur hit the wall with his good arm in frustration. How long had he been there? Who was still out there, trying to keep the world from being completely taken over? The man guarding his cell didn't say much- anything at all, actually, even when asked a question.

He supposed he could respect that. English guards had once been nearly famous for ignoring people, after all.

He leaned his head against the wall above his bed, looking at the second bed across the small room. It was like someone else was supposed to be in here. Probably the rest of the magic countries, but he wasn't quite sure how all four of them were supposed to fit on two beds. Oh well. Hopefully, it didn't have to come to that.

And yet, as if on cue, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs to the cell. One pair sounded like it was being dragged. Bugger.

The door to his prison was unlocked and opened, revealing two soldiers carrying what appeared to be an unconscious Lukas. They quite literally threw his limp body onto the other bed, leaving quite abruptly with a slam of the gate.

"Lukas," he hissed through his teeth. "Lu-"

"What?" Came the snappy reply.

Arthur exhaled. Then Lukas wasn't unconscious, just pretending. He sat up and rubbed his head- he had hit it pretty hard.

"You're a very good actor," he said, surprised.

"Whatever."

A moment of silence.

"Where are we?"

Arthur shrugged. "In some kind of jail run by Feliciano. I don't know for sure where, though."

"Great."

Another moment passed awkwardly.

"I'm guessing magic doesn't work here?"

"That would be correct."

Man, Lukas was just not good for conversation, was he?

"There's not much to do here," Arthur sighed. "It gets boring really fast. On the upside, I get a lot of time to just think. Remember the good days... before all this started."

Lukas nodded, fixing the clip in his hair. It had almost fallen out. He tried not to reflect on what had happened, but it was hard sometimes. Especially considering that the event had ripped his family in half.

They heard more footsteps come down the stairs. Yet another pair being dragged. Arthur wondered who else they could be bringing. Vladimir was already upstairs, and he and Lukas were right there.

... Oh.

The gate once again opened, and the guards carried in a blonde girl. She was definitely unconscious. They dropped her on the floor and left without saying anything.

Lukas immediately got up and knelt next to his sister.

"Freja," he whispered, hoping that maybe she was acting like he had been. No such luck. There was a large cut across her cheek, still bleeding, and there were a few deep purple bruises on the rest of her, especially the arms.

"She must have fought back," Arthur said as Lukas picked her up and set her on the bed where he had been sitting.

"Stupid girl."

Arthur looked at Lukas in surprise. With his near emotionless face, it was exceedingly difficult for Arthur to tell if he meant it or if he was just playing protective big brother. In fact, he couldn't tell at all. It kind of freaked him out.

"Lukas, this isn't good," Arthur said, trying to take his mind off it.

"At least they only have the three of us," he responded. "Vl-"

"They've had Vlad upstairs for a long time."

"Oh."

Lukas would have hit something had he really felt angry. His reaction was oddly dulled, even for him. The world was doomed- there was no one left to hold barriers around key areas. Why didn't it seem to matter? After they had fought so long, was it just supposed to end right there?

"Well, we can't do much but wait now, huh?" Lukas laughed, but it was dry and humorless.

Arthur nodded solemnly, but shuddered as he felt something familiar run through his body: magic. He watched as Lukas shivered, as well, followed by an unconscious Freja.

Why had the barrier come down?

He cracked the fingers of his good arm, wondering if he had enough to heal his broken arm. The twisted version of 'healing' in this place involved painfully setting it and then hoping he wouldn't move it out of its proper position.

"I've got it," Lukas said, pointing at his arm. Arthur winced as he felt everything move around and bind together, but at the end of it all, he felt much better. He silently thanked Lukas, who nodded and picked up his sister.

Arthur stood up and stretched, pointing at the door.

"Then, as Alfred¹ would say, 'Let's blow this joint'."

He was stopped by the evil face that suddenly appeared in front of the cell. He wasn't sure why he hesitated- any other day he would have taken the opportunity to blow Feliciano off the face of the planet.

"That's not appreciated; these cells are expensive," Feliciano said, running his hand along one of the bars.

Arthur growled, positioning himself to destroy the door. Why shouldn't he? Feliciano had made a grave mistake in giving his magic back, and he would pay dearly for it.

"If you want your friend to live, you'll stop."

And Arthur did stop, the green runes slowly forming around his fingers fading away.

Two guards shoved Vladimir into their line of sight, pointing their guns at him. He wasn't looking much better off than Freja- the bags under his eyes told them that he had been up for days, and multiple scars and other marks were spread randomly over his body. He looked like he'd been crying, as well.

He gave a weak grin. "Hi, guys."

Lukas shifted, moving Freja onto his hip. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he responded, but his crestfallen face said otherwise.

Feliciano clapped loudly, curl bouncing. "Good! Happy reunions for everyone! Now... We're going to take a field trip~! Aren't you all excited?"

Arthur took a step back when he slipped on his black gloves and opened the gate, letting a few guards rush in. They pointed their guns at the three. Feliciano pointed at Lukas.

"I recommend waking her up," he said sweetly, pretending that he cared. "It's going to be a long trip, and you can't carry her the whole way."

"Your goons were too rough with her," he said spitefully, the hate evident in his voice. "She's tired. I'm going to carry her."

Feliciano took a few steps into the cell. He stopped in front of Lukas and examined the limp girl in his arms, even going so far as to grab her face and move it around, much to Lukas' annoyance.

When he stepped away, he smiled. "You're very right. I can't imagine why my guards would hurt such a pretty girl. Whoever delivered her will be punished."

He signalled for everone to follow him, spinning on his heel and walking up the flight of stairs leading to the outside world.

When they exited, the first thing that Arthur noticed was all of the guards. There were hundreds of them, all lined up along a pathway leading to a small vehicle. Was that to protect Feliciano, or to prevent his captives from escaping?

Feliciano gestured for Vlad to climb into the front seat ahead of him, and then had a guard sit next to him. He told the guard to keep the gun trained on Vladimir at all times, no matter what.

The rest of them got into the car as instructed, with Feliciano climbing in last and the door slamming shut behind him. Arthur shifted closer towards Lukas upon seeing how close he would have to be to Feliciano.

The Italian leaned forward to whisper something in Vladimir's ear, causing the latter to flinch and refuse to look back.

After a brief smirk, Feliciano sat back and crossed his arms and legs, relaxing.

"Driver? Take us to our destination."

"Yes, sir."

1- Alfred Jones, or America


End file.
